Vanilla
by Heart Full of Elves
Summary: Innovative dabbling is fun, but sometimes what you need is a spot of vanilla. Context inspired by this prompt from imagineyourotp.: "Imagine your OTP cuddling on the couch while a massive blizzard rages on outside," but concept is mine.


**Note that this is my first and possibly last time writing in the second person. I'm not sure how satisfied I am with it, but enjoy the fluff!**

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><p>The two of you make it home - after saving the world yet again – a mere minute before the heavy snow begins to fall. While you hang up your jacket and Jack's coat, Jack goes straight to the kitchen. Smiling, you follow close behind. It has been a busy day, but it's over now, and you can take off your tie after a twenty-hour shift and pretend that everything is okay. Pretend that you have come home to your flat to do mundane things with your boyfriend after a normal, ordinary day.<p>

Jack starts making hot chocolate on the stovetop but you step in before he can burn the milk, and his arm slips around your waist to pull you closer as you pour the hot liquid into twin mugs, stirring in the chocolate powder yourself. On any other day you would protest, but the contact feels nice, so you let him. It's been too long since he touched you in this way.

When the drinks are made, the two of you go over to the couch and sit down in front of the telly. You take a sip from your mug and burn your tongue, and that's when the wind picks up, tossing around the snow that falls outside. Jack sets his drink down on the coffee table and pads over to the window. You watch from the sofa as he peers out at the greyness for just a second, then draws the curtains and turns to you with a smile before returning to join you on the couch.

The sight of the snow falling outside is enough to make you shiver, and you ask if you should turn the heat up. Jack responds that he is more than capable of turning it up, and you give him a light smack on the arm, though your fond smile gives you away. You never get tired of his jokes.

He switches on the remote control and flicks to a news channel. The two of you listen to the severe weather warning, drinking your hot chocolate, savouring the sweetness making its way down your throat. When your mug is drained you set it down on the table and snuggle up beside Jack.

The blizzard is howling at full blast now. He pulls you into his arms and rests his head on your shoulder, and you do the same, pressing a soft kiss on the side of his neck. You sit there in silence, just enjoying the feel of his arms around you, keeping you safe. You are reminded suddenly of your childhood, when you and Rhiannon would hide under the bed during a storm, comforting each other from the scary noises coming from outside, your parents nowhere to be seen. Only this time you are not in the embrace of your older sister but that of the man you love unconditionally. Because let's be honest: when it comes to Jack, there are no terms and conditions.

He lets out a happy sigh, and pulls back enough so that he can kiss your lips. A hand sweeps your hair back from your forehead, and then continues to play, messing up your carefully-styled hair. With just a hint of irritation, you tell him to stop it, which only makes him keep on doing it.

"I love playing with your hair," he murmurs. "You should grow it longer so there's more for me to play with."

You feel your eyes narrow. "Should I now? You know, if you want someone with long hair, there's always Gwen."

He winces. "Can we not talk about Gwen?" he asks, and you relent, if only because he asked nicely. In actual fact, you don't want to talk about her either, not when she's at home with Rhys and you're at home with Jack. "And besides, it's you I want. You and only you."

His blue eyes are focussed hard on yours, making it impossible for you to look away, and even less possible for you to not believe him. He is being honest with you and – he kisses you again, a slow, sweet kiss – showing you how he feels.

When his tongue seeks entry into your mouth, you give in, and moan at the taste of him, knowing that you probably taste the same, after drinking that hot chocolate. He pushes you back so that you lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours. His hand makes its way to your cheek, holding your head in place so that you couldn't break the kiss even if you wanted to. Your arms are around his waist by now, and you pull him down so that his weigh is pushing you into the sofa. He whispers your name against your lips, the most adorable thing you have ever heard escape his mouth, and that's the end for you. There is no going back. You have fallen.

His hands find their way down to your chest and his fingers begin to unbutton your shirt while you try to keep your heartbeat steady after this revelation. You nibble on his lower lip and he opens his eyes at the same time that you open yours. It is to your great surprise that you find his eyes convey the same emotion that you suspect yours do.

He pulls back, just a tad. "Thank you," he whispers with a smile, still gazing into your eyes. "I think we both need this." And while he doesn't speak the three words you want to hear, you read them in his expression.

You mirror his smile, understanding why he can't say them and accepting him for what he is. "I know," you tell him, and reach to bring him into your arms, where he belongs.

Because although your innovative dabbling is fun, sometimes what you need is a spot of vanilla. Sometimes you need you take your time and think about what you're doing. You need love. And right now, you have it. In this moment, you are not Ianto Jones and Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood agents; you are just Ianto and Jack, two ordinary people about to make love on the sofa while it snows outside.

The wind has ceased, though the snow continues to fall, and will still be there in the morning. But the winter is almost over and soon the sun will come out.


End file.
